Thunderball
by Lady Dudley
Summary: Based on an episode of the 'The Bridge': Molly is left - quite literally - with her life in her hands and Sherlock comes to her rescue. Implied/Pre-Sherlolly.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Just a little something based on _The Bridge_ episode 'The Beetle' (1x09), the title is from the _James Bond_ movie/song of the same name - I just couldn't resist (you may - or may not - see why when you read the scene). This is set after TRF. I hope you enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

_**Thunderball**_

Sherlock burst through the door with all of his characteristic bravado and a barely contained hint of desperation.

"Molly?"

Upon receiving no answer, Sherlock spun around in a small circle; taking stock of his surroundings and desperately searching for a sign – for _anything_ – that might give him a clue to her whereabouts.

"She had to be here," he muttered, still searching the room, ignoring the police and crime scene investigators spilling into the room, "I was so sure…"

"Sherlock?"

His eyes snapped to John, a little annoyed at the interruption.

"She's not here," John told him in a conciliatory tone, "we'll have to look somewhere else."

Sherlock resisted the urge to stamp his foot in frustration and settled for a grunt, "She _had_ to be here," he snapped, turning away and scanning the room with his eyes again. "Everything pointed to him bringing her here, why isn't she here?" he added, shooting an accusing glare in John's direction.

John held his hands up in a placating gesture, "I don't know, but we'll find her Sherlock," he assured him.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and stalked out of the room without a word.

John followed him out and watched as the other man paced in front of the deserted building, muttering to himself about codes and signs. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen the consulting detective this agitated, his brow furrowed slightly as it occurred to him that most of those times had involved the pathologist.

Sherlock suddenly stopped and cocked his head to the side, listening.

"Quiet!" he bellowed, startling the police and other personnel, they looked from him to Lestrade who motioned for them to do as he bid.

Sherlock barely noticed the brief exchange, or the silence that ensued, as he stood in their midst; obviously straining to hear something.

In the silence the others were able to discern a muffled noise coming from nearby.

In truth it was barely audible, but it was enough to send the consulting detective sprinting in the direction of a barely visible outbuilding in the distance.

Sherlock skidded to a stop in front of the locked door, "Molly?"

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock sagged a little with relief at the sound of her voice before casting around for something to break the lock. John came up behind him, panting.

"Is she in there?" he asked, watching as Sherlock attempted to break the lock using a brick.

"Yes," Sherlock answered tightly, hammering desperately away at the lock. He cursed as he tossed it aside.

"No good?" John asked, looking around for something better to break the lock.

"Stand back," Sherlock ordered Molly through the door and, before John could ask what he was planning, the consulting detective started to throw his weight against the door.

"What are you doing?" he asked, watching in amazement as Sherlock made another run at the door.

Sherlock shot a disdainful look in his direction and John held up his hands in defeat, acknowledging the stupidity of his rather obvious question as he moved to help his friend.

Between the two of them, they eventually succeeded in breaking down the door and John watched in amusement as Sherlock rushed over to where Molly was standing.

"Sherlock, wait," she ordered, stopping him in his tracks and both men watched in horror as she held her hands aloft, revealing the hand grenade she was holding. "He took the pin out," Molly explained, looking up at Sherlock with terrified eyes, "if I let go…" she trailed off as she bit back a sob.

John watched as Sherlock took a tentative step towards her, maintaining eye contact, "We'll do this slowly," he counselled, "John, clear the doorway," he ordered, without looking away.

John hastily removed the debris from the door, "Ready," he said after a moment, stepping out of the way.

Sherlock took another step forward and covered Molly's hands with his own, "Follow me," he ordered. He barely waited for her nod of acknowledgement before he started to lead her out of the building.

"Now," Sherlock continued calmly once they were outside, his eyes still locked with Molly's, "John, I want you to go and tell the others to take cover and, whatever you do, don't let them come any closer."

John looked doubtful, "Sherlock, are you-?"

"Just do it," Sherlock snapped, sending John scuttling back to where they had left Lestrade and the others.

"What are we going to do?" Molly asked in a small voice once John had left.

"On the count of three you're going to pass the grenade over to me," Sherlock explained evenly, Molly opened her mouth to protest but he ignored her. "Once you have done so, you'll duck as I throw it away," he continued, "do you understand?"

Molly nodded, her eyes still wide with fright.

"Good," Sherlock said, dropping her gaze to look down at their hands, Molly followed suit. "Now, on the count of three," Sherlock counselled, "one…two…three…"

Deftly he took the grenade off Molly, careful to maintain the pressure on the release. He barely noticed her drop to the ground as he tossed it away from them into the open fields beyond. In the next moment he bent over her crouched form, shielding her with his body as the grenade exploded.

It was all over in a matter of seconds, but it took both Sherlock and Molly a little longer to regain their bearings.

Sherlock was the first to recover, "Did he hurt you?" he demanded, scanning her intently as he sat back, releasing her.

Molly shook her head and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with shaking fingers, "No, he just…gave me the bomb."

She suppressed a shudder at the memory, although it didn't go unnoticed by Sherlock as he stood up. She shot him a grateful smile as he offered her a hand to help her to her feet, "Thank you," she said finally, looking deep into his eyes and unconsciously clutching his hand a little tighter.

"You're welcome," he replied, his voice a little gruff as he ran his thumb soothingly across her knuckles.

"That was-are you completely _insane_?" John demanded, breaking the moment as he came back to join them, closely followed by Lestrade. "You could have killed someone!" John continued, "Including yourself!"

Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he dropped Molly's hand, "Your concern is completely unnecessary, we're fine," Sherlock said dismissively as he turned to face the pair.

"You idiot," Lestrade said, ignoring his statement as he crossed his arms, "what if it had gone off _before_ you threw it away?"

This time Sherlock did roll his eyes, "As _stimulating_ as this discussion of alternate possibilities is, the fact remains that it _didn't_ explode." His eyes narrowed slightly, as he watched John pull Molly into a relieved embrace. "What would you have had me do? Keep Molly in danger by allowing her to continue holding it?" he scoffed.

It was John's turn to roll his eyes as he pulled back from hugging Molly, "I'm glad you're all right," he said, taking a step back, "despite the danger this git put you in," he added, ignoring Sherlock's protests.

Lestrade gave her hand a squeeze, "I'm glad you're safe."

Molly gave both men a grateful smile as Sherlock pointedly stepped behind her and placed his hands possessively on her shoulders. "I believe the correct procedure now is to wrap her in one of those hideous blankets," he said flatly and, without waiting for an answer, started to steer her in the direction of the ambulance waiting back at the main building.

Behind them Lestrade and John shared an amused look, "Possessive much?" Lestrade commented as they started to follow them.

"You have no idea," John replied, smirking as he watched Sherlock drop his hold on Molly's shoulders to take her hand in his.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I wasn't entirely happy where I left it and then I was inspired to continue it that little bit further. This chapter is inspired by something that happened to me and borrows some dialogue from an episode of _ST: DS9, _I apologise for any OOC you may detect but I cite ASiP and ASiB as my references - as you may notice when you read it ;) Hope you like :)**

Molly could still feel the cold, hard metal of the grenade in her hands; weighing her down and filling her with desperation.

She shook the image away languidly, tugging the blanket closer around her shoulders as she looked over to where Sherlock, Lestrade and John were deep in conversation about their next move. She cocked her head to the side as she watched them, a little confused that she couldn't make out any of their words despite how close they were standing.

Someone groaned and she saw Sherlock's eyes snap in her direction.

He was crouching down in front of her in the next moment and mouthing words at what looked like a rapid pace. Too rapid for her clouded mind and darkening vision to comprehend.

She blinked slowly as he started to go out of focus; she smiled woozily at him as her eyes drifted shut, confident that everything would be all right when she woke up.

"Molly, I need you to breathe."

Sherlock's face appeared in the darkness and Molly could dimly feel him gripping her upper arms tightly, she moaned and allowed her eyes to drift shut. He shook her gently, "Molly," he said, his firm tone holding a hint of anxiety.

"Hmm?"

"Open your eyes," he ordered.

"They are open," she replied drowsily.

"_Molly_."

Obediently she opened her eyes and was surprised to find his face merely inches from her own; her head started to clear as she blinked away the remainder of the darkness and she realised she must have passed out.

"I know you," she said with a hint of teasing as her gaze settled on his face.

His strained expression softened into a small smile and he loosened his hold on her. "We have met," he responded, shifting so that he was crouching just shy of her personal space and absently taking one of her hands.

"Are you all right, Molly?" John asked, looking at her over Sherlock's shoulder as the latter refused to move from his position.

"You gave us quite a scare when you stopped breathing," Lestrade added, appearing at Sherlock's other shoulder.

Molly stifled an amused look as she noticed the surreptitious dark looks that Sherlock sent in their direction. "I'm fine," she assured them with a smile, "I think I went into shock," she added.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and she giggled, "Ok, I _did_ go into shock," she amended with a smile as she squeezed his hand lightly. John and Lestrade took that as their cue to leave, sharing a grin over Sherlock's head as they did so.

Neither Molly nor Sherlock noticed their departure, "I'm sorry," she said after a moment, lowering her gaze.

"We were almost blown up," he reminded her, "it's only natural," he added with a shrug.

"Then how come I'm the only one in a blanket?" she countered, pulling her hand from his with a small huff.

Sherlock looked thoughtful, "Would it make a difference if I was in one too?"

"Yes," she said replied with a mock pout as she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Either Sherlock didn't realise she was teasing or he had decided to go along with her game because, to her surprise, he stood up and reached for the second blanket. Sitting down beside her, he wrapped it securely around his own shoulders before looking across at her for approval.

"Better?"

Molly hid a smile and gave him a satisfied nod, "Yes."

"Good," Sherlock replied, turning his attention to something in front of them before chuckling softly.

"What?" she asked curiously.

Sherlock shot her a sideways glance, "It's nothing," she raised an eyebrow. "Don't push me, I'm in shock," he informed her, attempting to hide a grin, "can't you see my blanket?" he adding, losing the battle against his grin and gesturing to the item in question.

Molly laughed, bumping him lightly with her shoulder, "We _were_ almost blown up," she teased, "it's only natural."

Sherlock's chuckle subsided and he regarded her seriously, "I would not have let you die," he said after a long moment.

"I know," she assured him.

"You still count, Molly," he continued, "you will _always_ count."

Molly ducked her head a little and gave him a shy smile, "Thank you."

Sherlock gave a curt nod before gazing into the distance once more, Molly followed his example and was soon lost in a daydream. She suppressed a start as she felt him take her hand; she shot him a questioning glance, but Sherlock continued to gaze straight ahead.

A small smile crept across her face as she unconsciously shifted a little closer to him and returned her gaze to the horizon. Perhaps he wasn't as impervious to sentiment as he liked everyone to believe.


End file.
